Good Morning er, afternoon Finn
by mistresssmayhem
Summary: A sequel to "Goodnight, Finn", but can be read on its own. I haven't decided whether or not to continue! Let me know.


Finn's eyes jumped at the sudden light, and he groaned. His eyes hurt. He raised one hand to flop it in front of his face. His arms hurt. He drew his legs up to his chest, made a feeble noise of protestation, and pulled the quilt over his head. His legs hurt.

As he surfaced from his slumber, he heard someone. _Humming._ He struggled to sit up and realized that _everything _hurt. He opened one bleary eye and then the other, blinked rapidly a few times, and then noticed the fuzzy outline of someone bustling hurriedly to and fro around the room. The sprite-like figure was nimble, swishing and sashaying from one corner to the next. It was odd, but Finn sort of thought it looked like—

"Kurt?" He said, propping himself up on his elbows and moistening his lips. The figure stopped humming and bent over him, grinning instead.

"Well, it's about _time!" _ said Kurt happily, backing away slightly and putting one hand on his hip as if to survey the lax Finn.

"Uh, morning."

"Afternoon." Kurt corrected reproachfully, consulting the pink alarm clock on the bedside table. Finn waved his hand in front of his face impatiently as if trying to clear away a swarm of gnats. He looked utterly bamboozled, and Kurt giggled quietly, bending over to scoop up an armful of laundry. He clicked his tongue and held up a blue sweater for Finn's inspection.

"Does this look," he gulped, "_wrinkled _to you?"

Finn blinked.

"Um, no?"

Kurt raised his face heavenward, eyes closed.

"Oh, thank _God._ I can't believe I just left this lying around. It's an Alexander McQueen for Pete's sake." He resumed his humming and carried the clothes out of the room. Finn squinted up at the ceiling, trying to remember…

"Kurt?" Finn called, and there was a moment before the pixiesque boy reappeared. He exhaled and snapped both feet together, giving Finn a mock salute.

"You bellowed?"

Finn hoisted himself up to a sitting position while Kurt leaned against the doorframe. Finn hemmed and hawed for a few moments, Kurt getting all dreamy eyed again, before he could formulate a proper sentence.

"What happened to me last night?"

Kurt sighed, sounding annoyed, but his face was twisted up into a crooked smile. "Let's see. You broke into my window in the middle of the night, woke me up, and then announced that you were…how did you phrase it? 'Completely pissed.'" He raised one eyebrow and his smile grew, his full lips making a suggestive slash in his face. Finn looked horrified.

"I _did_? I mean, I knew I was totally smashed but…yikes. I'm sorry, Kurt."

"I _should _be mad at you." Kurt conceded, leaving the room again to start the laundry. Finn smiled a little.

"But you aren't?"

"Comparatively less than I should be." He pressed the washer button and the machine buzzed to life, its agitations creating a bass _whum-whum _around the room.

"Kurt?"

"Hmm?" Kurt trotted into the room, busying himself with straightening up other things. Distracted.

"Thanks for letting me, you know, er…crash and stuff here. It's…really…a nice thing to do. Yeah." He finished, and Kurt giggled to himself.

"What an eloquent speech." Kurt said facetiously.

"Hey! I meant that, you know. Heartfelt, and whatever."

Kurt stopped cleaning to look at Finn curiously. He crossed his arms and tilted his head to one side. His voice suddenly dropped to just a whisper.

"I know you meant it. And I'm here for you, Finn. You're my," here he hesitated for a split second before finishing, "friend."

Finn nodded and stood, folding the quilt neatly and then making his way to the door.

"I should really be going now. My parents will wonder what happened to me!"

Kurt grinned self-consciously.

"Nothing traumatizing, I hope?"

Finn made a noise in his throat that sounded like a scoff. "Far from it, dude! Wait until I tell my mom I had a sleepover at your house. She'll never believe it. She'll be happy."

"She will?" Kurt asked, puzzled.

"Yeah. She likes you, Kurt. I think maybe I do too."

Kurt could not breathe. Surely, Finn didn't mean what he just said. He'd be kicking himself by now. Sure enough, Finn pulled him into a swift, bone-crunching hug and ruffled Kurt's perfectly coiffed hair, uttering the one word Kurt didn't hope to hear.

"Thanks for being my friend."

And Finn turned, clomping down the stairs, leaving a wave of day-old aftershave and beer behind him, something that Kurt found almost pleasant as he smoothed out his hair, bringing his hand down to inspect his fingernails. He heard Finn whistling as he bounded to his car, the same song he had been humming.

I honestly love you.


End file.
